


Alumina

by LearaBribage



Series: the missing pages [10]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist (Live Action), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, 青鳥の虛像 Fullmetal Alchemist | Fullmetal Alchemist: Bluebird's Illusion
Genre: Alexander "This Display Of Utmost Devotion Is Enough To Make A Grown Man Bawl" Armstrong, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Roy and Riza Pining and Being Tender AF, Heymans "She Should Be Shooting You Right About Now Sir" Breda 2.0, Ishval-era, Jean "FFS GUYS" Havoc, Kain "I'll Make Sure The Pictures Are Perfect Sir!" Fuery, Riza "Out of the Question I Have A Reputation" Hawkeye 2.0, Roy "I Can't Be The Only One That's Dense Here Lieutenant" Mustang, The Author Regrets Nothing, Vato "After Marriage!" Falman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24604372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearaBribage/pseuds/LearaBribage
Summary: An answer to why does Riza own a shirt that's too large for her — blended with angst, some humor, and graphic depictions of Roy and Riza being so tender to each other.(Hint: It's enough to make a grown man kneel.)
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Series: the missing pages [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731022
Comments: 20
Kudos: 47





	Alumina

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically my answer to this scene in FMAB where [Riza wears a large white shirt.](https://roymustangfma.tumblr.com/post/617937654123757568/shocotate-egalitarian-nature-blog-camsanx#notes)

"What happened to your hands?"

Riza opened her eyes at the sound to her right. Major Mustang was sitting up, fanning himself as he unbuttoned the first few buttons of his white shirt. She saw a few layers of bandages peeking out beneath the shirt.

She closed her eyes, wiping the sweat off her forehead. His wounds were probably from the time her unit wasn't assigned to his area yet. She touched her wrist, stretching her fingers to alleviate some of the pain in her hand. The images of the past days' events flooded her mind gently, _too_ gently that she cannot help the few tears forming in her lids even if she tried to rein it in, anchor it down someplace in the depths of her mind if only to let her body rest for a bit. She tightened her grip. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if making a grave for a child felt heavier than the weight of a gun she held in her hands for several hours. 

_It doesn't matter_ , she kept telling herself, _if it's only justice to bear this kind of pain._

Riza sat up slowly, massaging her wrists. "I've fired two hundred to five hundred rounds with little breaks this week," she answered wearily before eyeing him. "Compared to your injuries, this is nothing. Why is that?"

Roy arched a brow before looking down at his shirt, sighing.

"I was caught off guard," he whispered, his eyes on his hands. "It's nothing."

His fingers were as swollen as hers. Riza frowned. "You usually have a good perspective in long-distance battlefields. Was it the opposite this time?"

When Roy only clutched his hands, her eyes narrowed. Her father's flame alchemy allows control over trajectory, and she saw him pinpoint targets in close range at the tower a few days ago, so distance cannot be the problem.

If not that, then there can only be one thing.

 _The subject_ , she realised, her eyes widening. 

"Major," she began slowly, facing him, "did you hesitate because it was someone you knew?"

Roy looked up at her in surprise before his face fell. "I'm not surprised you'd figure it out, but yes. I was being an idiot."

"Or rather, I was being naive," he continued before she could say anything. His eyes suddenly looked paler, sadder. Very much unlike his eyes, all those years ago. 

_Killer's eyes, was it?_ she thought, blinking, if only to stop the fall of her tears. _How shameful, really, that it has become like this._

But still, she cannot help hoping. 

"I don't think it's wrong to be naive," she said determinedly, looking down at her bloodied shirt. She clutched the ends of it, eyeing how the dried blood blended with the dirt she knelt on earlier. "We are at war. While I knew it was never going to be easy, I ask that you please not deceive yourself that ideals have no place in a gruesome stage as this."

Despite everything that happened here, the image of the future he spoke of should not be jeopardized. Even if it was like this now, surely, it cannot be like this forever. Hope should have claws and its wings outstretched, unwavering in their flight.

And despite the horrors of Ishval painting the sky black, his dark eyes belonged to the light, steady and focused under the harsh rays of the sun.

His eyes were still locked on the floor. She raised her voice a bit, a flash of anger colouring her tone. 

"You cannot step back, not now that we have walked across a river of blood. I _still_ believe in the dream that you have, even if every step of the way can only mean misery. So please, if you must, do not falter in your resolve." 

"Surely," she whispered as his dark eyes turned to her, "if it's you, we can still have a chance." 

When he maintained his silence, she looked down, pulling the covers of the blanket close to her. She did not really expect a reply from him, given that she certainly spoke out of turn towards an officer. Despite that, however, she heard his footsteps beside her bed. 

"Apart from your wrists, are you certain that you're not injured?" he asked quietly, catching her attention. 

She arched a brow. "Yes." 

"That is not your blood, then?" 

Riza blinked, realising that he probably saw her shirt. "Ah, it isn't." 

"Very well," he said, unbuttoning his shirt before handing it to her. "I left my rucksack with Captain Hughes earlier, but this one should work. I'll keep watch on the entrance of this tent, so you don't have to worry about that. The last car should arrive as well so now's a convenient time as any to change." 

"I shouldn—," she protested even as he held it in front of her. 

"You should," Roy insisted, looking away. "You shouldn't jeopardize your health." Then he glanced at her briefly, eyes serious. "I am _not_ asking."

She could not control the flush on her cheeks as she took the shirt from his hands. "Thank you." 

"Of course," Roy answered, turning his back on her.

She removed her bloodied shirt as discreetly as possible, sliding her arms in the new one quickly. As she was buttoning the shirt, Roy suddenly spoke, even as his eyes remained towards the entrance of the tent. 

"Heathcliff Erbe," he whispered as she arched a brow at his back, "was a fellow cadet. The fact that he was here, fighting with Ishvalans, shouldn't have been a surprise. I was a fool. I was not as prepared as I thought I was." 

She looked up at him, her fingers faltering over the last buttons of the shirt. "I see." 

Roy crossed his arms, heaving a sigh. "Are you decent?"

"Yes," she answered, folding her old shirt. She handed him the shirt when he faced her. "I'm sorry I prodded you. I made an unpleasant memory resurface." 

"It can't be helped since I asked first," Roy answered patiently, catching her hand as he took the shirt from her. He turned her wrist and opened her hand, the redness of her swollen fingers and blisters all too loud to see. "Try not to overwork your hands to numbness. It will make the recoil more painful." 

Her cheeks reddened, trying not to be too aware of the way his hands held her fingers gently. "Of course."

"It's not too large for you, I see," Roy observed the fit of his shirt on her as she gingerly removed her hand from his grasp. "That's good. I still have my coat, so it shouldn't be a trouble." 

She looked away, repeating her thanks. "My unit's headquarters got compromised before I found the tower near Section 18, so I didn't have my accoutrements with me, just the magazines and whatever my spotter had." 

He nodded, helping her tidy the tent before they went outside. They were walking towards the terminal when she heard him say, "You're right, you know?"

Riza turned to him, finding his eyes staring straight at her. She tried hard not to fathom why his gaze made her feel so warm. 

"What do you mean?" she mustered over the fluster of her thoughts as he walked towards her.

"Ideals do have a place in the battlefield," he repeated her words softly, despite his bitter smile. "It was what began this in the first place. However, it just so happened that this one preferred to dismiss it. To the point where it feels like our humanity has been abandoned."

"Is that not wrong?" she asked tersely, not content to just accept this line of thinking even if he was just explaining what's been happening. "To abandon is to play god." 

Roy only stared at her in silence. Perhaps she should have bit her tongue. But she cannot help it, not when it's him. If it's him, she never felt any need to guard her mind. 

"You are truly clever," he remarked after a while, walking beside her. "Succinct as well, even if you are also very direct. It's a very good camouflage." 

His comment made her ears warm, so she gazed away, spotting a truck bearing their country's coat of arms a few miles away. "There's our transport, Major." 

Roy followed her gaze. "Ah, indeed." 

Once they got inside the vehicle, Roy turned to her. She arched a brow at him. 

"Be wary about your veracity, yes?" he whispered as he handed her a tumbler. 

Her fingers tingled slightly as his dark eyes focused on her. 

"Of course," she whispered back as a faint realisation dawned on her all those years ago. 

And it was this same realisation that jolted Riza from her reverie as she picked up the same white shirt that he had lent her then. 

She had been busy unpacking her things since their arrival here at Central this evening, but she started with her clothes first since there's only a few hours left for her to rest and prepare herself. She fiddled with the collars of the shirt, smoothing the creases with her fingers. 

_It's not too large, indeed, save for the collar_ , she thought with a smile. 

She paused, her fingers halting over a button. 

That reminds her, she had forgotten to return this shirt to him. She eyed the clock on her wall. 22H55. It's still not too late for a call, then. Probably. 

She headed towards her desk and dialed his number, wondering if he'll answer at this hour. She picked up the cord of the phone, fidgeting over it as the phone rang for a few seconds. Perhaps, it was too late after all? 

At least, that's what she thought until she heard the receiver get picked up on the other line and his smooth voice went through. 

She blinked. _Smooth? What smooth voice?_

"Elizabeth?" she heard him repeat. 

Shaking her head, she tightened her grip on the phone. "How'd you know it was me, sir?" 

"It's evening, so only you would call," he answered, his voice somewhat deeper. She gripped the phone more tightly, hearing the faint sound of a glass being poured in the background. 

_Ah, that's right_ , she remembered, _it was also his birthday today._

The unit didn't have much time to celebrate given all the preparations they had to do for today, so the rest of the boys only gave him whiskey and some food for him to take with him before they all went to their own places. She gave him a journal, though, since his last one was nearly filled with his notes. 

"Is something wrong?" he continued more firmly. 

"No, sir," she answered, closing her eyes. She had forgotten to reply right away. "I forgot to give you something—I still have your shirt from before so I'll be returning it to you." 

"My shirt?"

"Yes."

"I can't recall— _ah_ ," he replied, taking a sip from his glass. "I haven't seen you wear that one since that time." 

"Yes," she said, leaning down to ruffle Black Hayate's fur as the dog ran to her. She raised a finger over her shiba inu's loud bark. The dog quieted and sat properly. "I'll be returning it to you tomorrow, then. Thank you for lending it to me." 

"No," Roy said back firmly, "it's _yours_." 

"Bu—"

"Don't worry about it." 

Riza let out a sigh. There was simply no stopping him when his voice was like that. "Very well, sir. Thank you again. And I hope you live long." 

"I'll see you tomorrow," she heard the smile in his voice as the call ended. 

_Ah, that's how it is,_ she realised, tucking her hair behind her ear. _We have been together for a long time now that it was inevitable to go this way._

She sat down on the floor gently, leaning on the chair behind her as Hayate squeezed up beside her. She riffled through his fur again, taking comfort in the warmth. 

"He really knows what to say to settle my doubts, doesn't he?" she asked her dog, who only licked her face fondly. 

She eyed the shirt hanging from the armoire. 

That settled it, then. It's always prudent to have a spare now that it's begun to rain unpredictably. 

The next day, after her morning drills at the ranges, Riza nodded to Major Alexander Armstrong as she entered the Colonel's office. 

"My, my Lieutenant," Armstrong teased loudly as he waved at Roy before leaving, "don't you usually prefer dark clothes?" 

Roy glanced at her over his words, his eyes widening in cognizance. She saw a faint blush rush across his cheeks. 

She ignored the gazes of her fellow soldiers in the room, maintaining an impassive mask as she went to her chair and began working. 

"Haha, only Havoc's out now," Second Lieutenant Breda cheekily remarked, smirking over his papers. 

Havoc crossed his arms, arching a brow haughtily. "How convenient. I now have less competitors when it comes to wearing black." 

Riza ignored the pair's ridiculous repartee as she walked towards the Colonel to give him the report he needed to update Madame Christmas. 

"A departure from the usual, I see," Roy commented quietly as he read over her summary. 

Riza looked away from him. "Of course." 

He peered at her, a smile tugging at his lips as he held her report. "Great work here." 

She nodded, her cheeks reddening. 

In the background, she heard Havoc blurt, "Inappropriate!" 

Roy arched a brow. "Huh?"

Falman hit Havoc with a book. "Nothing, sir!"

"How dare—?" Havoc tried to say, but Breda covered his mouth this time, shushing him. Breda waved them off. 

It was Riza's turn to arch a brow. 

Fuery shook his head, saluting them both. "Please proceed!" 

Riza glared at them all.

Silence reigned heavily. 

That was, to say, until the Colonel spoke. 

"Well, it's certainly nice to have support." 

The guys roared, "UOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!"

"But now's not the time."

The guys deflated, going back to their work with a groan. 

Meanwhile, she could only stare at him in wonder. Discreet as his statement had been, she still did not expect it. But looking at him now, she supposed it was not that inconceivable. 

His dark eyes met her gaze in the quiet room. And he gave her a soft, fond smile. 

And she realised that he had been thinking the same thing as her all along. 

_Not now,_ _yes_ , she thought, returning his smile, _but it won't stay like this forever._

Until that time, hope must have claws and spread its wings.

And fly unwaveringly. 

**Author's Note:**

> *cackles*
> 
> [Alumina](https://www.britannica.com/science/alumina) \- in essence, it's a chemical compound that remains unwavering despite the odds. In this fic, I mean it for the both of them. And yes, if you're a fan of Death Note, I got it there from the first band — Nightmare — that sang for the first arc, haha. 
> 
> I also read a lot of helpful references on recoil hand injury and Carpal Tunnel syndrome, as basis for Riza's wrist injury here. Well most of the technicality. Some of it I based off my hands hurting from hours of typing in my laptop and snapping my fingers, haha. Ever since FMA/B, the way I snap my fingers or even clap my hands have totally changed. There's always that certain sound now. How about you? XD 
> 
> Also, I've noticed that in the 2003 FMA series, Roy's flirting style, at least when it comes to Riza, is that he's very touchy and a bit overt. In the 2009 FMAB series, Roy's more subtle, a bit shyer, and relies more on their inside jokes. (In FMAB-related games, though, it's a hybrid.) While I like that he's more confident in FMA, I prefer how intimate his voice becomes when he speaks alone with Riza in FMAB. This goes for both the subbed and dubbed versions, really. In the original Japanese sub, whenever he says "Chui", there's always that sound of amazement, a sort of gasp as he says her title. It sounds really smooth, somehow gentle while also remaining firm. In English, it always sounds huskier, haha. While I definitely like Travis Willingham's version, I much prefer Shinichiro Miki's style (but that's mostly because it's the voice I imagined Roy having when I first read the manga.)
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think and take care! ^_^


End file.
